


Cold Days, Bad Memories

by Belle82DevArt



Category: Polar (2019)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Gore, Killing, Mads is my baby, Murder, Offensive descriptions of characters, Sex, Sexual Content, The Black Kaiser is sexy af, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle82DevArt/pseuds/Belle82DevArt
Summary: The infamous Black Kaiser (Duncan Vizla) is being hunted by a member of his past.





	Cold Days, Bad Memories

**[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1996]**

“I want you to take a deep breath. Let the air calm your nerves, prepare you. Have you taken a deep breath?” “Yes.” Russian undertones, the English foreign on small lips and gentle in the winter air as snow blows in the gentle breeze. The white decorates dark hair, older locks blowing with the gentle shift of breeze blowing the frozen crystals here and there. The younger meets the elders gaze with a smile like that of innocence. His own smile was of thin lips, ever so slightly upturned and to the child's delight, he ruffled her hair before having her soft gaze return down the scope of the rifle. “Breath, take your time.” 

 

The gruff voice was close to her ear, skilled gaze meeting that of a stark brown to the white background of wooded terrain. A large hand rested on a small shoulder that held the butt of the rifle, ready to aid her with the recoil. “Low, remember to get low.” They lowered, his form taking lead and allowing the girl to lay snugly against his side as a particular, harsh and cold breeze takes to the right and hits the girls face in a stinging hit. A drapery of scenery cover over the two, hiding them away from the elements and allowing what little warmth to follow. Fur from a lined collar tickled at rough and beaten flesh, the soft skin of the girls in contrast only a reminder of the difference between the two. The infamous Black Kaiser, and the child of a Russian mob boss. She refocused on the target ahead, the red deer stalking along quietly stilled, eating at a few loose weeds sticking from the heavy snowfall, lifting its head when it hears the click of the safety being removed and those blank eyes scanning back and forth among the stark white. “Steady, line your shot up. They can tell hesitation, and hesitation is what gives them the opportunity to run. Do you understand?” 

 

The girl signaled with a nod and the man shifted, allowing her the chance to ease herself into the shot. The sight was ready, the gun was held just like the man had shown and the air was consumed by silence, only broken by the shift of branches in the air. One second, another, another and finally the shot rang out in the air. The ricochet, the bounce, the first shot missed and the deer shifted. “Too far to the left. Reload, take it again.” The bolt handle was pulled back, another .22 bullet placed in and the chamber quickly shut within the gun, ready for the next shot. His hand rested on her own at the fore-stock and he helped her shift the gun to be just before the path of the deer, leading her to designated section that was to be ready for the killing of the deer. “Breath, and follow through.” One, two, on three, the trigger was pulled and the deer fell down with a noise of defeat, crimson decorated the snow and scattering across the terrain. “Хорошая работа, голубь (Good job, Dove).” “Хорошая работа, голубь (Thank you, Kaiser).” Another ruffle of hair, and the two rose, a knife pulled and brandished before the youngster. “Do you know how to properly disembowel an animal? A human, no less?” A shake of her head, and the man bringed the child over to the stag that rested dead on the ground, showing the edge of the knife to the child. 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]**

The knife rested easily within his palm, blade to handle ratio perfect and even within his grasp as he approached the white tail. His breathing was steady, grey locks swaying like linen sheets on clothesline, shifting with each movement of the air. Flakes decorate each strand that was visible among the snowy landscape, cold eyes blinking to avoid the water that slammed his face and created a sting like stubble on a woman's thighs. It burned but in such a delicious way. The knife was inserted in the lower juncture of the legs, cutting the skin of the thighs up on both sides until they met. He didn’t mind the crimson decorating the snow or the blade he held, flashes on his times in other countries going to his mind. 

 

Germany, a woman creating a empire that threatened Blut and intimidated the fat fucker. Killing by hanging….from the Brandenburg Gate by her intestines. A easy gutting and spill for the other, her empire died that day. Duncan recalls such with a lost fondness, having taken the woman on her desk before slitting her throat when her guards entered. That same blade, embedded into another man's skull and by the end of the next ten minutes, the room laid bloody and corpse filled. He stifled a chuckle, shaking his head and drawing the blade up, severing the meat and tucking it away to be cooked later on that night. One does not kill without purpose, one kills for a reason. Never leave the meat behind and the animal to rot. He carried his contents along, a hum of memory hitting his mind other then the German woman who swayed in the wind. 

 

_ “When you are cutting flesh, you must always follow through with your actions. Just like any attacker, any animal, anything you dig this blade into and make your cut. You must put power behind it, must move with your body and carry out your momentum.” “Is it sharp?” “Very.” The elder pulled his sleeve up, arm displayed before the girl and dragging the sharpened blade over his own skin in a slow motion, watching as the hair on his arm was cut down and leaving a faint indent of where he cut and the natural growth. “I will start, and you will mimic.” The man commented with authority that had the girl on her knees at his side, watching his movements within the puncture area that allowed for access. Her nose scrunched at the matter that feel out with the cuts, but the man silence her protest when he continued, a hush coming from his thin lips and cold eyes meeting those of bright innocence. “Killing is a messy matter, little dove, remember such. As you make your cuts, more will spill out and more will fall much like that of  human. If a man is attacking you, would you care what falls from him when you make your cut?” A moment of processing his words, and the child shook her head, gentle locks swaying in the air and more flakes making (Hair Color) look almost as white as the powder that surrounded them. A shift in motions, and the man had the blade to the jacket that covered the childs belly, looking on with a expression that sent the girl to breath quicker, to shake and allow her heart to hammer. “You must be brave, and you must learn that fear is a downfall. Do you understand?” “Y-Yes, Kaiser.” “Duncan.”  _

 

Duncan raised his head when a noise within the woods sound, eyes skimming here and there before catching the glint of a object he knew all too well, a red dot decorating his head. 

 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1998]**

The creak of a wooden frame sounds within the back office of the extensive home. Harsh and unforgiving, the pace set was that of a unmentioned, unresolved need for what the other could give. Noises, skin hitting skin, begs and pleas for more followed in the air as dark hair and cold eyes dance over the silken feeling skin on the woman's bare back. Strong hands clutch at her skin, her hip held as his own collided with hers and elicit a louder noise to fall from those dirty lips that spilled curses in a native tongue. Those that wrapped around him in a way to draw him in and get what she needed to fill her like her damn husband couldn’t accomplish. “Kaiser! Kaiser!” The woman called when the position was changed and those strong hands rested upon rocking breast, thumbs brushing over the hardening rosy buds and holding her in place, right on the edge of what she needed most. 

 

“Mama?” 

“Дерьмо (Shit)!” 

 

The woman was quick to separate from the man, his body standing, heaving before her. The child stood in the door frame of the room, looking on with a confused expression as to what was going on. The male watched as the mother moved, going to her child and ushering her off from the room to her own bed where she had awoken, fearful from the noises she had heard and the dream that plagued her every night of her fathers work. “Спи мой маленький голубь (Sleep my little dove).” A kiss goodnight and the woman returned to the man who patiently waited for her return, hopping onto his lap on the seated chair and carrying on from where they had left off. Her hips rock and move, getting off from the thrust he sent up to meet each bounce given in the form of riding. She was much more quiet, but the Kaiser wasn’t complaining, simply aiding in her lips movement and when that high returned, sending his hips to jackhammer within the other. Her back bended in the most delicious ways, fingers clutching at the mans hair as she met each furious hit to that spot that sends any woman into pure bliss. She called his name, clung to him with nails drawing thin lines of crimson blemish on his shoulders and coming down only when the man removed himself and offered for her to finish him off. 

 

The time passes, hips swaying behind knees pressed into hard wooden floors and breast bouncing with each downward motion of a females delicate features. Hair shifted and was pushed back with skilled fingers of a free hand. Painted lips leave stains over a engorged length, crimson decorating and tongue lavishing until taking him down to the deepest level. A shaky breath, a suck of air through nostrils as a throat constricts, swallowing around her ticket to finishing him off and removing to repeat the action. He ended when her tongue traced a sensitive patch over his tip, spilling himself with a deep, gruff groan and watching as the woman on her knees swallowed her reward. He lazily places himself back within his pants, shirt retrieved from a corner of the room and taking note of the smudges on the window where he had the woman pressed long before, the marks left on the wood from the shelf that rocked and scraped when he had her up against it. His muscles tensed and adjusted beneath the black material, separating from the room when the woman carried on with her objectives of the day and began to return to a secretary like position. She nursed a glass of Massandra, sipping the wine with a hum as the man met her gaze once more. “Come back for more?” She asked with the tone that had drawn him in only hours before, that had him pinning her up against the solid Norwegian Spruce door that separated the rest of the home from their little sex fest. “No.” He replied simply, looking to the woman as she scoffed and continued to nurse her drink. His light footfall on the wooden steps go unnoticed as he leaves the room, the only indication of his departure being the shutting of the door behind him. The twenty-nine year old man quietly makes his way to the stairs, taking note of the little form that sat there, meeting his cold gaze and his own meeting her light one. He gave a hum, lights a cigarette and joins the girl on the steps, rear hitting the step with a light sound of thud and his hands placed over his knees with a hum. “You’re not the only one.” “I know.” The air wasn’t harsh, nor unusual or even tense between the two who seated in the darkened shadows of the stairway, her fingers playing with the edge of her thick pajamas and head bowed as they spoke. “Does it upset you? The other men?” “Sometimes.” The child replied in a soft whisper, gentle gaze meeting his once more when a hand was placed on her shoulder and smoke blown away from the child before another drag was taken in. It was a comforting grasp, gentle despite his mannerisms with children not those of recommended nor father like in the least. Tiny humans, not children, that was the mindset he grew. She was much more mature than any eight year old he had met, much less seen on the streets.

 

“Why are you up, (First name)?” “I had a nightmare and heard noises.” “No, the true reasoning.” Duncan looked on with a serious gaze, wanting an answer to the question that was truthful. “I couldn’t sleep because mom was so loud.” A laugh was shared between the two and the man ruffled the youngers hair, grin playing on those thin lips. “She was quite loud.” He replied in a humored tone, smiling due to her own with each giggle falling from her lips that was caused by him. A check of the time, 23:37, he scooped the smaller up with a grunt and snubbed his cigarette out on a passing table ashtray, taking smaller to her slumbering quarters. A tuck in, the light turned out, his shadow had began to recede behind a closed door before the quiet voice piped up once more. "Подождите (Wait)!” “Да (Yes)?” A pause, he stands in the doorway and waited for the other to speak. 

 

“Goodnight, Duncan.” 

“Goodnight, dove.”

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]**

 

“Move in, don’t stop until this Подонок (fucker) is dead.”

 

Shots ring out among the chilled air and the seasoned killer was quick to avoid, slipping narrowly from the shot aimed for his temple and taking the knife he brandished against the deer to someone that approached just a little too quickly for his taste. A quick succession of impales to the torso and a final slice to the neck. The gun the man brandished was stolen away in the struggle to keep his bowels in, used as a human shield against gunfire and allowed to take on two more men. A break of a hand, the snapping of a neck and the elbow dislocated in three places before being used to turn the gun on oneself. The man ducked away into his home, gun used for another series of downings and ear piece taken to speak through. 

 

_ //“Donovan, speak to me.”// _

_ //“Donovan isn’t here.”// _

 

A moment of pause, the firing ceased and all was quiet, surely to search the home in attempts to figure out where he had gone within. Glass shattering, tear gas had been entered into the home and thrown back out before the gas had become too much. Another series of shots, another moment of silence.

 

_ //“We’ve looked everywhere for you Kaiser.”// _

_ //“Must not have been looking hard enough.”// _

 

Coughing, Duncan took his shots and while the gas was the distraction, sneaked his way beyond the home, sneaking on to where the last of the team remained. The sniper was taken out, rifle pointed and taking out the last members of the team. He recalled the motions he taught the girl from Russia, the words he needed to speak to keep her focused and remind himself, despite his seasoned nature just how to take the shot and when.

 

_ //“Where are you, Kaiser?”// _

_ //“Who wishes to know?”// _

 

“Me.” A click of a gun behind the man and he turned to rest on his aging back, rifle pointed at the woman and her body just narrowly missing the shot. Legs kicked out and head slammed onto the ground once, twice. By the fifth and a nice bit of blood gathering on the snow landscape, the man had her out and dragged the form to his home. The questioning process was to be done while she still had breath leaving her. It took hours for the woman to wake, the room spinning, body aching and sluggish. She struggled, bonds held in place and wrist chaffed from movement whenever the man reentered. He had wood tucked under his arms, set aside by the fireplace when he took note of the other. “You’re awake.” 

 

The restrained woman didn’t reply to his words as she looked on to the other, vision going in focus and back out as the man steals a chair from the table and seats himself before the other with a light grunt. He placed a cancer stick upon his lips, resting and taking a drag after the lighter was placed and lit the end of the fag. He hummed when the woman struggled once more, shaking his head at the failed attempt and the indication to draw her attention was a clearing of his throat. Smoke filled the air once more, fluttering and falling onto delicate features. A cough, an attempt to escape the smoke and the man rose, moving over to the other and letting his foot rest on her leg in a heavy foot fall. It hurt, and the woman's attention was on the man who let the ash of the cigarette fall onto her lap, burning lightly but not as badly if he had put it out on her. “I need a name, agent.” “Fuck you.” A hit across the face, blood surfacing from nostrils and splattering onto the floor from the whiplash of the light. The woman licked at her crimson stained lips and when her face turned back to the man, she spits on him, the crimson landing on his cheek. Another series of hits resulting in a busted lip and blackened eye, she refused to give in just yet. 

 

Fingers are snapped and bones dislocated, body bleeding in places the woman couldn’t even begin to recall being hurt in. She spits out a bit more blood that had been held in her mouth, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut blinking away the pain and bloodshot from a bit. She could have sworn she lost a tooth, but a check with her tongue and surprisingly they were still in place. “Name. Give me a name and this will all be over.” “I won’t tell you jack shit, Kaiser.” The click, the cold metal pressed to her temple and he looked on with dissatisfaction, eyes narrowing at the way she tensed. A moment of pause, his finger twitched over the trigger and before he could pull it, the woman rasped out a reply. “(First Name) (Last Name).”

 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 1999]**

 

“Duncan?”

 

The voice distracted the man with gun in hand, silent gaze falling back to the child who stood in a puddle of blood before him, entering from the solid wood doors out to the patio. It was windy, the snow heavy in the air and the shadow in the frost wind looking on with eyes that only a killer could pull off. He turned fully when he hears the panic within her tone, heart hammering as those sweet eyes met his own and he could hear the way she stuttered over her words. “M-Mama? Отец (Father)?” “(First name)-” “Why?” She asked with the waterworks spilling down her cheeks in such a heavy flow, he could only recall the time her father had yelled at her for coming in when he was arguing with Duncan. She was sobbing so hard due to his harsh words, and the Kaiser could only watch as her hands shook. 

 

“(First name), I need you to come with m-” 

“Нет (no)!” 

 

The girl refused to go with the man covered in her parents blood, watching with blurred vision as the man took a step closer, then another. Each step forward was two steps back with the girls back ending up against the door as the man stopped her. A grunt and the thirty year old lowered to the childs gaze, hand reaching to wipe her cheek and a red mark left across it as her tears were gathers and swept away. “You must be brave, and you must learn that fear is a downfall. Do you remember?” “Y-y-yes, Kaiser.” He was about to bring her into his side when his earpiece has given instruction. 

//“Kill the girl. There will be no witnesses as our employer has stated, Kaiser.”// His gaze softened and the girl could only be left to guess what he had hear, the look crossing his features not of the fatherly love he once felt. He removed his earpiece, crushing the object beneath his boot and grasping the child by the back of her shirt, paying no mind to her protest and cries as he dragged her along. The deadweight she put on was straining yet he didn’t struggle, simply throwing her within a closet that was away from the view of the others. His gun was drawn, pointed.

 

“Duncan-”

“I’m sorry.”

A single tear rolls down his cheek and he pulled the trigger once, twice, until the magazine in his pistol was empty and the faint click sounding in the air signaled it was all over.

 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]**

 

“You never aimed for me directly, but I still have the scars to show what you did. You killed my father, my mother, and you didn’t even bat an eye. I know you’re a better shot then that...why didn’t you just kill me when you had the fucking chance, Kaiser?” The woman looked on, venom behind each spoken syllable and body shaking as she took in the remembrance that was written on the elder mans face. Twenty years since that night, and she remembered every bloody detail, every damned drop of blood and the fear that swelled in her when he shot her, when he shed a tear and apologized before leaving her to die in the home with her parents. “I wanted to take you with me, to not let that h-” “Shut up, I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want to know the truth. Why didn’t you kill me?” 

 

“Because I couldn’t bare to. You were so small, so kind and innocent to the world despite the hell you had seen….I couldn’t end your life there when you had the potential to do anything you wanted.” A saddened, almost hurt laugh and the woman shook her head, tears of crimson and salty substance falling down her cheeks as she looked on. “When I woke up in that hospital room, when I found out that you had visited me, left me gifts and tried to repair what you had done, I knew it was a damned man trying to seek salvation. I hated you, I wanted nothing to do with you.” 

 

“(First name)-” 

“I said shut up, Duncan. You don’t know what kind of hell you have put me through just because you thought you did the right thing and ‘spared’ me. I begged whatever the fuck was above or below to end me, to have me dead before I left that hospital so I wouldn’t do something like this, so I wouldn’t have gone after you. I’ve tracked you for so many years, I’ve searched the world and only when you decide to retire is when I get my chance to show you what you’ve made me become.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

His words stuck out in the air, and a moment of pause between the crying woman and the man who sheds a tear in the eyes of the other, they cooled off from the thrown words, from the pain shared. 

 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[SORTAVALA, RUSSIA, 2007]**

 

“Ms. (Last Name), we would like to discuss with you about carrying on your father's business from where we have left off. We didn’t wish to bother you while pursuing a education, but it is very important to carry on with the work at hand.” A clear of a throat, a sip of scotch, the girl leaned forward with a gentle gaze resting upon the men who sat before her. “Two weeks ago, you had a birthday. We have given you this much time before asking you to carry on this business, I believe it is only fair.” Contradicting accents, the two men always wanted guns for their organizations, and one had caused her eye to twitch in annoyance. Bigger, wearing a color she dread, looked as if he belonged in some sick porno that required a bigger man of his size and telling by the smell of lotion heavy on his skin, it was damn near sickening. The other, poorly dressed for a meeting of this sort. Something of Hispanic or Latino background, he rested lazily in the plush, fine Russian leather of the chairs that creaked with each movement from the man of bigger variety.

 

“Gentlemen, if I may ask, why have you waited so long when you both know and I know that my competitors have advanced, it not surpassed this failure of a organization? Inactivity means loss of productivity and the end result is the loss of income and materials. You, Mr. Blunt, know this well with your organization.” A chuckle sounded in the air and the man steals a sip of his glass that had been offered in the beginning of the meeting. “(First Name), if I may call you such-” “You may not.” The other snapped in return, earning a chuckle from the man that was seated beside the bigger man, humming with a frown at the look of distaste on the older man. “Get on with it, Mr. Blut. This is strictly professional.” “Right, we need your inventory once your ties begin to rebuild, and we are willing to pay top dollar for such if you are willing to sell solely to us.” “How much of a cut will I be getting for supplying my guns for your hit-men.” “Seven percent.” “Bump it up to fifteen and we’ll have a deal, Mr. Blut.” A laugh, and the woman continued to look on with a expression that screamed seriousness. The man was pissing her off with his humored manner, and she leaned forward, narrowed eyes ceasing his laughing fit. “Oh, you’re serious.” “Deadly.” 

 

“Twelve-” “Fifteen and a bottle of premium Scotch, we’ll have a deal then and only then. Mr. Blut, if you want my guns and only my guns then I suggest you accept my terms and get the fuck out of my office, or I will personally have you escorted out of my home with a kick to your asses on your way out.” A cross of her arms, she lean back and the man takes a moment to mule such over. A pause, five seconds, ten, by twenty the man sighed and shook his head. “Let me call my financial adviser, and f she agrees, then you have yourself a deal, Ms. (Last Name).” The bigger man leaves the man of unknown ethnicity with the now seventeen year old girl who nursed her chilled glass, refilling when in due time. “So, chica, how long have you been-” “Listen here, compañero (buddy), I am not your chica, I am not your friend. If this deal goes through, I am your supplier and there will be nothing more than that. If you try anything in this time or if we do happen to be in my company as business partners, and try to make a move,  Я снесу твой член и кормлю его собакам (I will blow your dick off and feed it to the dogs).” He laughed at her threat, but his silence was indication when a gun was placed upon the desk. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” “I’ve learned from one of the best.”

 

A moment later, the bigger variety of men returned with a huff and stood before the woman, hand outstretched. “I believe we have a deal, Ms. (Last Name).” She avoided his hand in favor of a nod, and gestured the man to leave her office, humming against the rim of her glass as she finished off the last contents. 

 

When night fell, it was that of silence like the silence of any vacant home. She was alone in this world, no friends or family to recall. Her phone lights, a incoming call. She quietly took it in hand, looking down at the unknown number of American origin and frowned light. “Mr. Blut-” 

 

“(First name).”

 

Silence, a pause. The caller could be heard by breath, soft, gentle, reminding her of when the man was teaching her how to hunt red deer. She was tempted to hang up, to leave him there and then but she paused, waiting for him to speak.

 

“I wish to talk to you, pl-”

“Don’t call this number again, Kaiser...I want nothing to do with you.”

“(First N)-”

The end of the call was sounded by a click, a hum following her words and the phone being set aside in favor for another glass of Scotch. 

 

**\-----------------------------------------------**

**[TRIPLE OAKS, MONTANA, 2019]**

 

Within the hour, the man had the other untied, beginning work on bandaging and patching her up. The next, when the darkness of the woods when night had created silence over the land, they began their work in the snow covered, hardened soil, covering each with a toss of dirt. The bodies were hidden away, led back to the warmth and the fire started where the woman sat before. Plush collided with her side and even then, a groan falls from her lips in the hints of pain that shoot up within her body. “You can sleep on the couch.” “Thank you...Kaiser.” “Duncan.” The man looked the other over before undoing the laces to his boots, setting the leather, blood and dirt covered footwear off to the side and stealing another glance to the woman. 

 

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“It’s hard to imagine you would be this much older. I remember when you were just a little dove learning how to hunt. Your first deer and certainly not your last.”

“You’ve gotten old, Duncan. Retired I assume? Blut wanted you dead, but from my understanding, you took every last one of his men down and him included. Nice bit of work you did on the pig.” 

 

A slight smile played on her lips and he rises from the bed, laying a pillow out for her on the couch. His stance kept behind her, watching as she strained and rose up, slowly making her way to the couch and easing herself down to lay. “Going to watch me sleep, old man?” “You never did let me talk to you, when I called. I wanted to apologize, to reunite and aid you. I-” “Duncan-” “Let me finish.” He gave a sigh, setting aside his jacket and looking over her injured form. “I wanted to make up for what you had lost. Be it money, someone to talk to. I wanted to be there for you when you had no one. I thought time would help mend wounds but I see it in this case, it has only created more.”  Their eyes met finally, in that tie period they had been reconnected, her gaze was soft, her smile was genuine yet saddened, pained. Time could mend some wounds. 

 

“I...knew why you did it, a group asked you to kill them, and I want your help to find them...to kill them. The money was good, and orders were orders.” “(First Name).” “Hm?” “We’ll find who did this, I promise you.” The man gave a nod to the other, taking his place in bed. The woman eased onto her back, humming with a bit of pain and staring up at the ceiling. Once pass of the fan, two, three, and she gave a sigh. 

 

“Thank you, Duncan.”

 


End file.
